


Message Received

by asinner, JenKristo



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Anal Sex, Analingus, Coming Untouched, Fingering, Hands Free Orgasm, M/M, Morty is 18, Sex Toys, Sexting, Texting, co-authored with asinner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 15:57:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11107914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asinner/pseuds/asinner, https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenKristo/pseuds/JenKristo
Summary: Morty takes a sexy photo of himself to send to a boy at his college, except he accidentally sends the photo to Rick. Texts turn into sexts, until their situation begins to heat up in person.





	Message Received

Morty was spread out on his bed wearing nothing but his boxers and signature yellow t-shirt. He was staring intently at his phone screen, chewing his lip, because he had never done something like this before.

He was texting Remi, a guy who was in Psych with him. He was older by a few years, maybe in his early twenties, and absolutely gorgeous. Remi was all muscle, complete with a blinding, toothy smile and a sultry French accent. If anyone else had been in Morty’s place they would have been beyond thrilled.

But although Morty could easily recognize the objective attractiveness of his new ‘friend’, he felt very little in terms of sexual attraction.

Because he wasn’t Rick.

Morty sighed, trying his absolute hardest to get a least a little turned on at the outstanding dick pic on his screen. He failed miserably, however, and flopped down onto his pillow with a melodramatic sigh. His plan to repress his sick feelings towards his grandfather was so far completely unsuccessful.

 _Wow!_ Morty typed. He shook his head, cringing at his own awkwardness, and deleted the text. He changed it to: _Impressive. How about I show you something too?_

Remi replied immediately with a genuine: _Fuck yeah, babe._

Morty groaned, because that was totally something Rick would say, and he suddenly found it a lot easier to take off his shirt and pull his boxers down low on his thin hips. His body was nothing like Remi’s; it wasn’t huge, or muscular, or anything like that, but judging by Remi’s previous texts, that was actually what he liked about Morty. Over the past week, he had called Morty a ‘sexy little twink’ on multiple occasions.  

Morty sat up a little straighter and closed his texts to take a picture with his camera. It was dim in his bedroom, so he turned on the flash. He photographed the expanse of his chest and focused in on his nipples that Remi had practically begged him to see, and took the photo. The loud “click” of the virtual camera had him jumping a mile and almost flying off of his bed.

“Hm,” Morty hummed aloud, taking the photo in. He looked pretty good. He’d never had much self esteem, but his face was cut off and he looked...decent. He’d cut off the photo right before the waistband of his boxers, hoping that maybe Remi would assume that he was naked underneath. He opened his contacts and composed a message, barely looking at the screen as he did so. Once he hit send, Morty relaxed back into his warm bed. _There,_ he thought as he put his shirt back on. _That wasn’t so bad._

This was extremely bad. Rick crouched down under his desk, looking inside the cabinet. He shifted a box and pulled another out, and climbed part of the way in. He coughed as the dust was disturbed, and wiped the spittle from his mouth.  
  
Where the fuck was his fucking micro allen wrench? This was the second one he’d had to get this month, what with Jerry using the first to scrape dirt out from under his fingernails and then accidentally dropping it into the toilet.  
  
While backing out from the cabinet, Rick knocked his head on the edge of the counter.  
  
“Balls,” he hissed, grabbing the back of his head. He turned over and splayed out on the floor, head still partially in the cabinet. He sighed and took out his flask, taking a swig. “I hate you Jerry,” he whispered, and then finished it.  
  
And where was Morty to crawl under counters for him? Morty wasn’t as small as he’d been at fourteen, but he was certainly good at doing things that Rick would rather not do himself.  
  
Where the hell was Morty anyway? Rick felt like he was seeing him less and less these days. Okay, fine, he wanted to go to college and pass his classes like a book-humping nerd. But it wasn’t like he was living at school. More and more often Rick felt like Morty was trying to get away.  
  
His phone vibrated on the counter above him, and he slid out, grunting as he climbed to his feet. Rick dropped into his chair, stretching his leg before checking the message. It was from Morty. He opened it and blinked. Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes and stared at the photo of his grandson seductively sprawled out on his bed. Yeah, those were his sheets, and that was his torso. Rick didn’t need a face to recognize his Morty.  
  
Why the fuck was he seeing this? Wait.. Yeah, he knew why. The dipshit had clearly sent it to the wrong person. Somebody needed to get that kid a rotary phone to keep him from ruining his own life. And while the absurd thoughts slid one after the next through his mind, is blood was slowly boiling. When he finally realized it, he couldn’t even say why. But goddamn, he was pissed.  
  
Rick narrowed his eyes and typed up a response: ‘WHAT THE FUCK MORTY who the fuck were you going to send this to?’

Holy fuck. Holyfuckholyfuckholyfuck.  
  
After reading what he'd expected to be Remi's reply, Morty’s brain short circuited.  
  
He'd sent it to Rick.

He'd sent a fucking sext to Rick.

Morty had never yearned for death until this very moment. He shoved his head into his pillow and screamed into it, kicking his feet around like some sort of deranged octopus. God, this had to be a nightmare. Had to be a fucking nightmare. Rick would never, _ever_ let him live this down. And what if... what if Rick found him unattractive? Morty facepalmed at his own stupid thought process. _Of course he's not gonna find you attractive, you're his fucking grandson!_

With shaking hands, Morty composed a reply.

_‘FUCK RICK OH MT GOD I DID NOT MAEN TO SEND YOU THAT HOLY FUCK !!!!! AND I WONTT TELL YOU WHO IT WAS FOR FUCK OFF oh my God I'm going to die please can we just pretend this didn't happen’_

‘No shit you didn’t mean to send it to me,’ Rick texted back. He was sitting up rigidly in his seat. He scrolled up and looked at the photo. It was nothing he hadn’t seen before, what with their adventures and just sharing a bathroom. But this was a photo of Morty curving his back and trying to be sexy for somebody, and that made Rick feel like he might spontaneously combust with rage. He sent another text before Morty could respond to the first.  
  
‘ _and i’m not going to pretend shit for you! it happened. tell me who the fuck this was meant to go to or i’ll make sure it goes to everyone it’s not meant for and show them what a stupid little moron you are. don’t think i cant do it, I WILL HACK YOUR SHIT FASTER THAN YOU CAN PRESS DELETE’_

Morty almost hyperventilated when he read Rick's response. This was coupled by a flash of irritation, however, at Rick's threat. What had him so pissed off? Why couldn't he just leave Morty alone and stop torturing him for once? Was this some sick game to coax Morty into more adventures or something?

_Wtf is your problem Rick?????? Wahetver it's this guy named Remi in my psych class. Wasn;t planning on telling you that i like guys too but you made me because you're a sadistic jerk!!!! now delete the picture you asshole and drop it !!!_

Morty sent the message and sighed, folding in on himself.  If he could sleep he would, but the stack of textbooks on his desk served as a constant reminder that he had shit to do. He was tempted to silence his phone and read Rick’s reply later, but his nagging curiosity got the better of him.

Rick’s brow rose as he read the message. Being called a sadist was nothing new, and the idea of him dropping this or deleting the photo was laughable. But the fact that Morty was attracted to men? That was actually interesting. He had always thought of him as so… so, _so_ very straight.

Now for this Remi… Rick slid his laptop closer and began to search. It took literally zero effort to find this guy. He looked up Morty’s college, found his Psych class and brought up the roster. Remi Moreau. A minute later he was hacked into the boy’s laptop, exploring the contents. He found messages to a few other guys from the past, dick pics, close-ups of abs. Yawn.

And yet, seeing this objectively attractive guy and knowing that he was after Morty made Rick feel like committing more than a few crimes. He sized the guy up, and decided that Remi probably weighed double what Rick did in muscle alone. Pshh, he could take him.

Rick typed out a message: ‘ _Wow, you sure hit a gold mine with this guy. he’s got more pics of his own dick than he has porn. i bet he masturbates in front of a mirror_ ’

Rick didn’t bother mentioning Morty’s ‘coming out’, because whatever. After another moment of searching he barked out a laugh and texted Morty again.

‘ _oh shit this is rich!!! your boy does SLAM POETRY. have fun sitting in a coffee shop for ten hours a week watching your boyfriend jerk himself off all over a bunch of hipsters Sounds like a real good time, morty!!!’_

Morty was so done with Rick's shit.

_You're such a creep, Rick are you seriously stalking him right now? And we're not...You know, together or anything. We’re just fooling around. And, you know what?! I think slam poetry is pretty cool! Cooler than all your stupid science crap!_

Okay, now Morty was being petty and he knew it. But what the hell had possessed Rick to dig up all this info on Remi? He wasn't _that_ bad…

Ah, who was he kidding. Rick was right, Remi was obnoxiously egotistical. And frankly, Morty didn't give two shits about slam poetry.

But he wasn't about to let Rick know that. With a self-deprecating smirk, Morty thought: _I bet you'd shut up if you knew the real reason I'm fucking around with Remi._

Rick was entirely unfazed by Morty’s name calling and stalking accusations. And not for a second did he believe that Morty liked slam poetry whatsoever. In fact, everything he read was ignored and forgotten save for a single sentence, ‘We’re just fooling around’. His hands tightened into fists.

He typed a text with angry smashing fingers: ‘whate are you saying MORTY… youre actually DOING shit with this trash??? Its not just pictures?! Tell me youre not fucking this guy. TELL ME MORTY GODDAMN’

Sure Morty had dated a girl or two in the past, but now Rick’s brain couldn’t let go of the provocative photo of Morty on his bed, and the pictures he’d seen of this Remi douchebag and his bulky arms and his dick pictures. Of course his brain automatically put them together and holy shit did he HATE what came out. He was ready to blow a goddamn fuse.

Morty sighed when Rick didn’t even acknowledge what he had to say. Of course Rick wasn’t taking him seriously. He’d always had the uncanny ability to see through Morty’s bullshit, after all.

Morty’s first instinct was to lash out at Rick again, so he typed: _WTF why do you care about who I have sex with? It’s none of your business!_ But before he hit send, he realized that this probably wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He wanted Rick to forget about this, to drop the subject, before Morty ended up revealing something he had sworn to himself that he never would. Ever. So he answered Rick honestly.

_We made out a few times in his dorm but that’s it. I don’t really want to do anything else with him so i probably won’t. idk. Maybe i will. Why do you even want to know?! Go back to crafting alien guns or whatever you;re doing down there!!_

Morty hit send and sighed, eyeing the clock above his bed. It was getting late, but he wasn’t tired. And judging by Rick’s quick replies, he wasn’t either. Behind Morty’s irritation and embarrassment was a muddled confusion. Why _did_ Rick care? Normally he wouldn’t give Morty’s personal life the time of day unless it interfered with his ‘work’ or was something he could laugh at.

“Asshole,” Morty grumbled before standing up and stretching. He’d been in bed doing nothing for almost an hour now, and his arms and legs felt like noodles. He could hear the TV from downstairs. Maybe Summer was watching something interesting. He threw on some pajama pants and checked his phone one more time before heading downstairs to join his sister. Rick hadn’t said anything yet, but Remi had. _Did I scare you away, cutie?_ Morty snorted, shook his head, and shoved his phone in his pocket without a second thought.

The flames of Rick’s rampage were thoroughly doused by Morty’s calm and earnest response. He swiveled in his chair and put his feet up on the desk, phone in hand as he thought. What kind of guys just _made out_ these days? Growing up he’d always ogled someone and then hooked up once they were alone. It was only some of the girls who required a little wooing.

Although it was mainly weird, the idea of Morty taking it slow was also kind of charming. Not that Rick would ever say that aloud. Rick typed, ‘?? _why dont you want to do anything else with him?’_

Morty was content watching The Bachelor with his sister, who was busy typing away on her phone. He missed interdimensional cable, but he knew that Rick would destroy him if he were to watch the newest episode of Ball Fondlers without him.

His cellphone ‘pinged’ once again, and Morty sighed loudly. Summer turned towards him, one eyebrow raised.

“Texting your boy toy Remi?” She asked.

“No. I’m--I’m texting Rick.”

“He’s in the garage, why don’t you just go down there?”

Morty blushed and scratched the back of his head. “Uh, well, I...I don’t wanna bother him, I-I guess.”

Summer rolled her eyes. “You bother Grandpa Rick all the time. Whatever.”

Morty shrugged as the conversation came to an end. He just really, _really_ couldn’t talk to Rick face to face right now, not after what he’d sent him.

Morty finally looked at Rick’s response and was surprised by his genuine curiously. Huh. He didn’t seem pissed anymore, and he wasn’t even making fun of him for what he’d said. Weird.

‘ _I’m not super into him, I guess. I’m just doing this to try to get over someone else. I know, it’s stupid.’_

Morty wondered for a moment if he should delete that last part, but there was no way Rick would know who he was talking about. Morty hoped he would be happy with that, although judging by Rick’s random fascination with this subject Morty didn’t think he’d be letting up anytime soon.

Rick was not at all pleased to hear that there was somebody else on top of the slam poet. He didn’t even know why it bothered him. He texted, _‘jesus, Morty,, theres a ‘someone else’ too? Who?’_

God, Morty should have known that Rick would ask. He had to find a way out of this.

_‘Would you leave me alone already rick?? I need to study cuz I have class tomorrow at 9 and i'm gonna be up all night if you keep asking me questions every two seconds’_

Morty prayed to the Almighty Texting Gods that Rick would take the bait and start teasing him for going to school like an idiot. He wasn’t actually planning on studying; in fact he weighed his options and decided that he’d most likely skip psych tomorrow to sleep. He was most definitely not in the mood for an awkward encounter with Remi, whose texts he’d been blatantly ignoring.

Rick laughed and then burped, leaning farther back in his seat as he texted.

‘ _youre gonna have to kill me if you dont want to hear from me, morty. i hope whoever youre trying to get over is less of an idiot than the Slam Poet_ . _whats the story anyway? did you get dumped or did they shoot you down before you had a chance, or what??_ ’

Morty cringed at Rick's response but still felt sweet relief. Thank God, Rick wasn't onto him. But then again, why would he be? What kind of normal human would have feelings for his own grandfather? Morty decided to continue being as vague as possible.

_No one shot me down or dumped me. Thanks for that assumption Rick. really makes a kid feel great about himself. I just know they're never gonna be into me._

Xxx

 

 

Somehow, Morty had evaded Rick’s questions over the past week and managed to start looking him in the eye again. The two had gone on a few adventures without so much as a hint of awkwardness, and for that Morty was eternally grateful. Then again, Rick made it almost impossible to feel awkward around him; his ruthless verbal abuse tended to leave little room for much else.

That was all fine and dandy, but Morty still had his _other_ problem to deal with.

He wasn’t going to give up on Remi. So what if whenever they kissed Morty had to imagine it was Rick’s lips on his to feel anything at all? It was better than nothing, he supposed.

And that was how he’d ended up at a huge rager, complete with blinding strobe lights and drunk twenty-somethings in every corner. Remi had promised he’d be there, chucking a cheesy note at Morty during a particularly long lecture in psych. But he’d bailed, and now Morty was completely alone in a room full of crazed young adults.

Morty took a seat at the empty bar and ordered a shot for himself. _Might as well take advantage of the free alcohol before I go,_ Morty thought as he downed it in one swift gulp. It would have looked pretty badass, Morty realized, if it wasn’t for the pathetic coughing fit he had just moments after as a result of the bitter taste. The student-bartender had only eyed him, amused, and graciously poured him another shot. Morty swallowed it quickly, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and blinking against his watery eyes. He groaned when his phone vibrated in his back pocket, but still pulled it out because maybe, just maybe it was Rick.

It wasn’t.

_I’m sooo sorry babe. Was too tired to go 2 the party 2nite. U forgive me?_

Morty rolled his eyes but replied with a fake: _Yeah of course_.

_Thanks Mo, you’re the best._

Goddamnit. Morty _hated_ that nickname with every fiber of his being. While in the process of correcting Remi, Morty received another text from him.

_I’m still pretty tired lol...wanna help me get my energy back?_

Fuck. Morty downed another shot because...well, he knew he was going to need it now.

 _Sure how?_ Morty had to type his response three times before spelling those two words right; he’d always been a lightweight.

_You tell me._

Morty wracked his brains for a cheap line, something he’d heard in all the terrible gay pornos he’d binge-watched a few years back, and took another shot. They were tasting less disgusting by the minute.

_Would sucking your dick help?_

Morty thought he’d be fine with doing that. Probably. If he pretended it was Rick’s.

_God yes. You’re so hot morty. Always such a tease in class. Can’t wait to do more than just kiss u iwanna write a poem abt how hot u r_

Morty cringed at the poetry comment as his fingers tumbled over the keys. He silently thanked God for autocorrect. His head was swimming.

_What if I let you fuck me oevr one of the desks?_

To Morty’s surprise, Remi didn’t respond right away. Maybe he’d gone too far? As Morty stood up, body wobbly and uncoordinated, he thought to himself that he wouldn’t really mind if he’d scared Remi off.

Morty had been at this stupid party for all of twenty minutes and he already wanted to bounce. _How am I supposed to get home?_ He thought blearily as he pushed his way past countless sweaty, gyrating bodies. _Guess I’ll have to call an uber or something._ Morty banged his hip into a table, inwardly cursing his pitiful body and its inability to combat the effects of alcohol.

For Rick, the last week had been excruciating. Ever since Morty had accidentally sent that stupid selfie, it’d been nagging him in the back of his brain. He’d be trying to put a blood-sucking alien’s massage parlor out of business and suddenly he’d imagine Morty splayed out on the massage table, taking shirtless selfies. Or he’d see someone in a sexy outfit while strolling through an illegal weapons convention, and wonder how Morty would look wearing it.  

It slowly grew worse until he was fixating on small, innocent things that he normally never noticed. Morty would be eating a powdered donut, making a huge mess on himself, and Rick’s brain would whisper, ‘lick it off his lips’. He’d immediately need his flask.

As the week went on, his thoughts devolved into studying the curve of Morty’s throat as he swallowed, or the way that clothes would cling to him when he was sweating. Rick’s brain had been brutalized and recovered from a long list of stressors throughout his life. And being attracted to his grandson, although not the worst, was leaving him the most shaken and ashamed.

It was absolutely crucial that Morty didn’t notice anything different. He could get past it if he just kept things normal, went on adventures with Morty and played things off the way he usually did. If anything, he made Morty even more frustrated than usual.

That’s why he took Squanchy up on his offer to go to an interstellar strip club. There was bound to be enough titties and tentacles to keep him distracted.

The club was crowded but not the most packed he’d ever seen it. Rick sat alone, what with Squanchy having gone into the back for a private dance. The dancer in front of him had what looked to be two dicks in his spandex underwear, and a tail that swung hypnotically. It made him wonder what Morty would look like in a tail. That thought led to thinking about Morty wearing some cheap halloween costume with a tail involved, and he took another shot off a passing waitress’ tray. He knocked the drink back and wiped his mouth.

“You want another?” The waitress asked.

“I’ll take a half dozen.”

And that was just the start. Rick drank hard. Sure he was basically always drinking, but tonight he just wanted his brain to disappear. He found drinking partners and had them under the table in no time. Nobody could beat Rick at the blood-alcohol game.

But eventually his yelling and flailing limbs had the bouncer escorting him to the door, and he stumbled out into the street. He swayed and sat on the curb, leaning over to puke. Yeah, he’d overdone it.

Getting home was difficult, but Rick managed not to crash into anything until he clumsily landed the ship in the back yard and took down a rhododendron bush. Rick couldn’t be bothered to get out. He sat in the ship, rubbing his eyes as he felt his phone buzz.  “Thefuck…” he slurred, and turned a little so he could get it out of his pocket.

It was a message from Morty. Sweet little Morty. Rick opened the message and read it.

‘ _What if I let you fuck me oevr one of the desks?’_

Rick stared at the message, reading it over twice. His brain played it out before he could stop it; Morty in the garage, leaning over the worktable with his stupid skinny jeans shoved down to his knees. Rick’s body reacted immediately as he thought about Morty looking over his shoulder at him, face flushed.

And then he was suspicious. Why would Morty send him something like this? Was he testing him? Did he want to see if Rick would wimp out? He didn’t think it over too much more than that before sending a response.

‘ _i would, if ure serious._ ’

Morty woke up the next day with his feet on his pillow. He hadn’t even remembered returning home, or how he’d got there. _Geez,_ he thought as he gulped down some week-old water he had on his nightstand. _Guess I had a little too much._ His head was pounding, and when he opened his window to get some fresh air he realized immediately what a dire mistake he’d made. The sun was blinding and he shrunk away like a vampire bat, jumping back into his covers at the speed of light. Morty couldn’t remember ever being this hungover. Then again, he’d never taken more than five shots in one go.

Morty looked at his clock, which read two P.M. He’d slept almost eleven hours and missed half his classes. This was a rare occurrence; not because he wasn’t a late sleeper, but because normally Rick would have dragged him out of bed to go find some alien plants by now. With a grumble and a stretch, Morty threw on a clean shirt and some boxers. Reflexively, he grabbed his phone to check his texts, and cringed at the overwhelming white light of his screen. Squinting, he turned down the brightness with clumsy fingers, only to realize that he had a text from Rick. Strange. Since Morty had plucked up the balls to start talking to him face-to-face last week, the two had hardly needed to text one another. Morty grinned, thinking that maybe he wasn’t the only one who was hungover this morning, but his smile faltered when he read Rick’s text.

At first he didn’t understand what his grandfather was talking about, or what he had responded to. But then, as Morty read what he’d somehow sent the night before, his eyes widened.

 _Oh my fucking God,_ Morty thought as a hot wave of panic shot through his body. _I did it again. I did it again, why am I such an idiot all the time--_

But then Morty took in Rick’s response, and suddenly he was glued to where he stood. Rick would...what? There was no way he’d…?

Now, Morty knew that Rick was all kinds of fucked up, but this? He must have made a mistake, or decided to use Morty’s drunk stupidity as ammo to fuck with him later. Never in Morty’s wildest dreams would Rick ever be interested in him in such a way. Never. It wasn’t possible. But God, on the off chance that he was…

Morty shivered slightly, allowing himself to pretend for a moment that Rick’s response wasn’t just another way to mess with him, or to torture him. The mere thought of his grandfather reacting positively to the text had heat pooling low in Morty’s stomach. He shakily typed out a response, careful not to embarrass himself. He was tempted to see how far Rick would go with this joke, or whatever the hell it was.

_‘Really?’_

A buzzing on his lap had Rick waking up with a jerk. He peeled his face away from the glass side window and wiped the drool from his mouth. He was still in the ship, in the yard, on the crushed flower bush. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, and opened the new message from Morty. He scrolled up to read the last few before it.

“Oh,” he said aloud. “Oh shit.” And then he was breathing unsteadily, his sore brain suddenly working in explosive overtime. Morty had sent him a text. Check. He had drunkenly accepted. Check. Morty had responded. Check. How the fuck could he get out of this? And WHAT THE FUCK.

He went over it again. Morty sexted him. Okay, that could have been an accident like the picture had been. Morty really was clumsy enough to make the same mistake twice. And then Rick had responded. That was bad, but he could probably play it off like he’d mistaken who he was texting. Maybe? Maybe not. Or better, that Squanchy had responded as a joke! But Morty had responded ‘Really?’ which backed up his other text. Rick’s head pounded. Morty wouldn’t… no.

Rick pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to fight off the swimming in his head. He typed and deleted a few messages and stared at his screen angrily.

He put down the phone and began rifling through the shit behind his seat until he found a bottle that made a sloshing sound, something that wasn't empty. He opened the bottle and drank some of the stale liquid.

There was something in him telling him Morty was being honest. He knew for sure that it was Morty's phone because they'd been texting just last week. Logically, someone could have stolen the phone. There were a thousand logical reasons why it wouldn't be Morty. Or why it was a misunderstanding.

But then he thought about the last few months and maybe longer. Morty wasn't exactly the way he used to be. It was hella subtle, but when he thought about it, Morty almost never touched him. After a long day Rick would sling his arm over Morty's shoulder and Morty would slowly work his way out again.

Morty also didn't look him in the eye as often as he had when he was younger. And at the same time, when Morty thought Rick wasn't looking, he would catch him staring. He used to think Morty was doing it out of frustration. Now he wasn't so sure.

Rick finished drinking the bottle. Once again he opened the messages between them and read. The alcohol was strong and it calmed his nerves, but he now felt more lost than ever. With a sigh, he typed a response and sent it.

‘ _morty… i need you to answer a question. am i the person you're trying to get over?_ ’

When he read Rick's response, Morty's first instinct was to panic. That was the kind of person he was: a panicker, an anxious mess. But then, after taking a few deep breaths and chugging half a gallon of orange juice, Morty reread Rick's words. He could find no hint of disgust, nothing bitter or even amused. Morty had never been a pro at interpreting human emotions, especially over text, but he was pretty damn sure that Rick was just...afraid? Maybe unsure?

A nagging fear in the back of Morty's head, the same fear that he'd carried with him to college, kept him from responding immediately. What if Rick were to cut him off, or leave him? Morty could handle judgement or insults (Rick had probably called him every bad name in the book at this point) but not that. Never that.

Morty groaned when his father looked up from his balloon game and gave Morty a strange look. Before Jerry could inquire as to what was bothering his son, Morty had bounded up the stairs just in time to catch a glimpse of Rick’s spaceship in the back yard. His grandfather had completely decimated Jerry's prized flower bush, and Morty cracked a smile at that because it was just so _Rick_ to mindlessly do such a thing.

Morty sent an impulsive reply before his anxiety could creep up on him again.

_‘’ would you hate me if I said yes??’_

Morty was fully aware of how pathetic he sounded, but what else was he supposed to say when he was afraid of losing the person he loved most in the world? His heart was hammering in his chest as he grabbed his bookbag from his bedroom. Morty would most definitely not be able to retain any information today, but he could at least show up. _It'll distract me. Maybe. Probably not._

Rick sighed as he read Morty’s message. He didn’t wait before texting back. ‘ _U know this is some srsly fucked up shit morty,, and i’ve been through a lot of shit. AAAND ur a piece of shit for roping me into it. but of course i dont hate you…..,.. moron_.’

He swallowed before sending Morty a second text. ‘ _i havent deleted that pic u sent me last week…_..

Rick's next two texts hit Morty like a freight train (in the best possible way). If he wasn't completely numb from the initial shock, he probably have yelped out loud or done something equally embarrassing. Rick didn’t hate him. _Rick doesn’t hate me,_ Morty thought with a loud sigh of relief. _In fact, it seems like he…_

Morty’s cheeks began to heat up as he digested Rick’s words. Obviously he hadn’t kept the picture to make fun of him, and Rick’s earlier text about roping him into something coupled with that fact had Morty walking on air. Maybe he’d been lucky enough to be born into the one dimension where Rick was actually interested in him in such a way. What else could it be? Morty might have been stupid, but not stupid enough to overlook Rick’s implications. Fuck, Morty wanted this so bad. More than anything.

He took a seat in the used Prius Jerry had bought him for his eighteenth birthday, took a shaky breath, and replied to Rick before starting the car.

‘ _Wow Rick, why didn’t you delete it?’_

Morty just had to ask, had to make sure he was right before making a complete and utter fool of himself.

As he drove to his university, all Morty could think about was the way Rick’s hands would feel on his skin.

Rick started up the ship and lifted it over the house to park in front of the garage. His phone buzzed and he checked, rolling his eyes at Morty’s question.

‘. _.i’ll just let u figure that one out_.’

He climbed out of the ship and leaned against it, thinking about how he was going to hell and how fucked up this was, and how he wasn’t even feeling all that bad about it. He knew he should be, but he’d never been that good about conforming to social norms, or following moral guidelines. Morty wasn’t a kid anymore, and this was his idea. He knew that was no excuse at all, really, and decided he’d have to accept it without excuses.

After thinking for a moment, he typed out a longer text and sent that as well. ‘ _i wanna take it slow with u morty… this is some heavy shit. if u regret it, we wont be able to just pretend it didnt happen. i think we should stick to texting for a while, see how u like it.  see how u feel about it after._ ’

Morty wasn’t able to check his phone for the last ten minutes of his drive but each time it buzzed against his thigh he’d tighten his hands against the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. He was going be that guy, the one who was always on his phone during lectures, today. Morty knew that for a fact, and he honestly couldn’t be bothered to care. Not when this was heading in the direction that it seemed to be.

As soon as he parked, he jumped out of his car and sprinted to class. He was late, but that didn’t stop him from pulling out his phone and reading Rick’s texts as he ran. A few students shot him nasty looks as he practically bumped into them. In any other scenario Morty would have been apologizing until his throat was raw, but today was different.

He had to stop, however, when he saw what Rick had said.

_This was actually going to happen._

Rick was actually into him, and that reality was finally beginning to sink in. And never in Morty’s dreams had Rick been so...considerate. The fact that Rick was worried about the heaviness of the situation and how it would affect Morty had him weak in the knees.

When he’d fantasized about being with his grandfather he’d imagined a quick fuck, something dirty and only meaningful to Morty. A one time thing. He hadn’t even _dared_ to imagine that Rick would be open to…’taking it slow’. Morty shivered and tried to shove those thoughts away for later. He would _not_ go into class with a hard-on, especially when he was ten minutes late. _Nope._

Morty wished there was some way he could convey to Rick how fucking _sure_ he was about this. But he’d take what he could get. If Rick wanted to sext him then Morty sure as hell wasn’t going to turn him down. 

_Its been years you jerk. I want this ok?? I’ll do whatever you want_

Morty sounded thirsty as all hell and he knew it.

He took a seat in the lecture hall, slipping in quietly. Only a few of the hundred or so heads turned to look at him, and he was grateful for that. He didn't have to look in a mirror to know how red he was.

By the time Morty had sent his text, Rick was in the sublevel lab beneath the garage. He was lying back on a creeper, pushed under a new machine roughly the size of a grand piano. He had only just gotten down there when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He maneuvered enough to reach it, twisting to read the message.

Morty had liked him for years? And he’d do… whatever he wanted?

Rick set the phone down and stared at the machine above him. He ran his fingers through his hair and blew out a breath. This kid was going to kill him. Shifting a bit, he managed to type out a text.

‘ _R U fucking kidding? im trying to take it slow with u and u say shit like youll do whatever i want? U have any idea some of the weird shit that does it 4 me?_ ’

 _Welp,_ Morty thought, flushing as he wiggled awkwardly in his seat. _So much for not getting hard in class._

His professor sounded like an adult, straight out of Charlie Brown.

The fact that Morty was doing some “weird shit” to Rick had him chewing his lip and tapping his fingers against his desk in anticipation. Fuck.

Morty tried to type left-handed as he jotted down some half-assed chicken scratch.

_I mean it. I will. I've been thinking about this forever and I'm thinkign about it right now rick and I'm tryimg to listen to this lecture but I can't cuz...you know_

Rick bit his lip. The room felt a little hotter than it had a moment ago and he tugged at his shirt collar. He thought about Morty obscenely eating the powdered donut the other day, and typed. Wanting to start off slowly, he figured this was both honest and tame enough.

‘ _ive got a thing for watching u eat messy. wanna watch u eat a big white cupcake and get frosting all over your mouth. youll lick it off, no hands, and i’ll lick off what u cant reach_.’

Morty had sort of expected this, but somehow he still couldn't stop his mouth from lolling open in a mixture of shock and arousal.

The thought of Rick’s tongue in his mouth was much, much hotter than it probably should have been. Morty imagined he'd probably taste like alcohol, and smell like that cheap aftershave he often used. Morty shuddered in his seat. It would be so _fucking_ good.

He'd always viewed his messy eating habits as something negative, something else to add to the “Reasons Why Morty is Annoying” list. But apparently Rick thought it was attractive, and Morty wondered if Rick had even gotten off after watching him make a mess of his food.

That thought alone had him digging his nails into his thigh. He typed a reply, fully aware that his dick was doing the talking for him now.

_You can lick wherever you want but can I touch you too?? Please rick?_

Rick straight up hit his head when he turned too fast for his phone. “Goddamn…” he growled, holding his face. This is what he deserved. Divine fucking punishment for sexting his grandson. Not that it would stop him.

He read the text and swore under his breath. Whatever he wanted? Morty was playing with fire.

 _‘If u wanna touch, youre gonna have to earn it_ . _gotta be good, gotta do what i say._ ’’

Morty bit his hand to hold back the whimper that was threatening to escape from his lips. Fuck, fuck, _fuck._ He glanced at the clock above his professor’s head, cheeks burning. Class was over in less than ten minutes. He ignored the pointed glare from the studious girl next to him as he typed a response:

_‘I'll be good for you Rick I promise’_

Morty took a shaky breath and typed something else, something he was pathetically desperate to hear the answer to.

' _what do you want me to do?’_

Smirking at Morty’s eagerness, Rick replied, ‘ _for one thing i want u to quit texting in class and show me that you can be patient. i’ll tell you when i feel like it_.

Morty groaned as he read Rick's text because he wanted to _know_.

Class ended before Morty could reply. As he walked to his car (with his textbook held awkwardly in front of him) he wondered how he could get what he wanted. He clenched his fist, glaring at his phone screen.

_But I've been waiting for so long already :( I don't think I can be patient_

If that didn't work, which it probably wouldn't, Morty decided that he would have to step up his game.

‘ _Youre gonna have to be,_ ’ Rick texted back with a smirk.

Afternoon turned to evening and Beth roped Rick into helping make dinner. He mostly agreed to it because it was a chance for him to wear his _This Grandpa is Sizzlin’_ apron. Dinner was Beth’s healthy-alternative turkey dogs with an array of sides, and Rick tossed fried potatoes with diced onions in a pan, with enough butter to counteract the benefits of the turkey dogs.

He paused when he heard the front door open and shut, wondering if Morty was home. He was seriously looking forward to seeing him.

When Morty got home, he was immediately greeted by the smell of his mom's cooking. And a fuckton of butter. His stomach flopped pleasantly at the thought of Rick being in the next room. Had he heard him come in?

Morty stood still by the door for a moment and looked down at his clothes. He'd thrown them on haphazardly before class, and they most definitely weren't flattering.

He made the impulsive decision to sprint up the stairs before anyone (including Rick) could catch a glimpse of him. Morty locked the door, stripped, and began rummaging through his drawers for something else. He found an old pair of jeans that were much too tight on him, and he grinned devilishly. He paired this with a yellow tank top, one that he only broke out on the hottest summer days, and looked at himself in the mirror.

If there was one thing Morty had learned during his first year of college, it was how to attract guys. He'd never had much luck with the ladies, but men seemed to appreciate how boyish and lean he looked (he'd even had to reject one of his professors last semester).

After running his fingers through his hair, Morty made his way downstairs. Dinner was already being served, and Morty grinned fondly at Rick's stupid apron. He made an obvious effort to catch Rick's eye as he took a seat across from him, staring up at him through his long lashes.

"Hey, Rick!"

Rick found it impossible not to stare as Morty moved to his seat, in jeans that accentuated every curve from his ankles to his thighs. And with his fitted shirt and disheveled hair, Morty looked like the perfect specimen of Miami Beach trash. Not that Rick was _at all_ immune. No, if Morty was at the beach, Rick was in the water with a hook through his mouth.

He jumped out of his daze as a splash of cold water hit his hand. Rick realized that he’d been pouring water from the pitcher, and had filled his glass until it was spilling over the edge.

“Fuck,” he swore, grabbing a handful of napkins to soak up the spill. Summer moved one seat away from him without looking up from her phone, and Beth passed him a dish cloth.

Beth smiled at Morty. “Sweetie, you look so nice. Are you going somewhere special?”

Morty smiled innocently at his mother and crossed his arms. “No. J-Just hanging out with Rick.”

Morty hoped more than anything that Rick had spilled his water because of him. Almost as a confirmation, Morty’s phone vibrated against his thigh. His eyes flashed over to Rick, who seemed to be fussing with his phone under the table, and Morty’s heart sped up.

‘ _WTF MORTY… how am i supposed to function normally with you wearing shit like that?_ ’

Morty took a sharp breath and squirmed a bit in his seat. _Geez,_ he thought. _It really was me._  No one seemed to notice his rapidly reddening cheeks except Summer, who quirked an eyebrow at him. Morty typed a quick response and prayed that Jerry wouldn't notice and call him out for being 'disconnected’ or something equally stupid.

Rick glared at Morty, because why the fuck would his mom need to know he was dressing like that just to hang out with him? Did he want them to get caught? He turned to Beth. “We’re heading somewhere where the-URP temperature is pretty high right now.”

Jerry swallowed his bite. “Well _you’re_ not dressed for the heat. Why only Morty?”

Rick rolled his eyes. For fuck’s sake. Of all of the inconvenient times to suddenly grow a brain. Rick’s phone buzzed where he held it under the table, but he didn’t look right away. He had a couple good zingers on hand, but decided he didn’t feel like bothering with a pissed-off Jerry. “I-I-I-I-’ll be changing on the way.”  

Rick looked down at his phone to read Morty’s message.

' _do you like it?’_

He glanced up to find Morty looking at him, pretty and expectant. He kept his expression stony, mouth turned down to avoid drawing attention to them. He typed a response.

_‘baby you have no idea,. i’m gonna make you cum in those jeans without even touching you. thats a promise.’_

Rick took a few bites of dinner before getting up. “Gotta piss.”

“Ugh. Thanks for letting all of us know,” Jerry said with irritation.

“You’re welcome,” Rick said on his way out. He went upstairs, but not to go to the bathroom. He had a surprise for Morty.

Holy. _Fuck._

Morty almost choked on his bite of potatoes. All the blood in his body traveled south, leaving him a bit lightheaded, and he crossed his legs awkwardly. He had no doubt that Rick could make him cum without touching him; he'd only sent one text and Morty was already more turned on than he'd ever been in his entire life. So many filthy images flashed through his head at once that Morty’s current surroundings practically disappeared around him.

His hand trembled slightly as he grabbed the salt, but Beth and Jerry were so engrossed in their current argument that they didn't seem to notice.

He tried to calm himself down as he waited for Rick to return.

Rick calmly returned to the dinner table and sat. He’d even flushed the toilet while he was upstairs, to cement his story. He was pleasantly surprised to see that Morty’s face had turned scarlet while he was gone. Keeping his expression cool and calm, he texted him.

‘ _i left you something to wear upstairs. U should find it before somebody else does. put it on under your clothes and come back._ ’

Rick’s expression was stony, so much so that when they made eye contact Morty had to repress a squeak. He swallowed thickly as he read Rick’s message. Something to wear? He was confused, but curious.

He wanted to obey Rick right away like he’d promised, he really did, but he couldn’t just stand up with an obvious hard on in front of his family. He sat still for a moment, avoiding Rick’s gaze and fixating his eyes on the remnants of his forgotten meal, until he calmed down enough to bolt upstairs without being found out. He didn’t look back at Rick as he mumbled a quick “Bathroom!” to his family. Lucky for him, no one really gave a shit whether or not they ate together aside from Jerry, who would sometimes make a stink about it if he needed entertainment.

Morty slammed the door to his room and looked around wildly, albeit he wasn’t exactly sure what he was searching for. He didn’t see anything out of the ordinary at first, but then his eyes landed upon an oddly shaped... _thing_ on his desk. He took a few cautious steps towards it, and then his brain finally registered what it was.

 _Oh,_ Morty thought dumbly as he ran his fingers over the purple, phallic object. It was curved upwards, and Morty knew exactly why. _Rick gave him a sex toy._

He’d fingered himself so many times to the thought of Rick that he’d lost count. Over the years, Morty had actually discovered that he preferred having his fingers inside of him while jacking off. Still, he'd never tried something like this before, but he had an inkling that he was going to like it. Too much.

Morty struggled for a moment with getting his jeans off, what with their tightness and his almost painful hardon. He knew he had to work fast, or his family would know that something was up. Morty released a shuddering sigh as he plopped onto his bed and spread his legs. (He hadn’t bothered with underwear today). He grabbed some lotion off his nightstand and opened himself up quickly; he was already so turned on that the slight burn of the intrusion did nothing to slow down his pace. Morty knew exactly where to place his fingers, and once he hit _that_ spot he had to slap his hand over his mouth.

The toy slid in easily. Morty bit the inside of his hand because the thickness felt so fucking _good._ God, how the hell was he supposed to go downstairs with this inside him and act like everything was normal? He took a few deep breaths, adjusting to the feeling, and stood up. Every movement of his body caused another wave of pleasure to hit him like a punch to the gut, and Morty wondered if Rick had gotten this on another planet that specialized in their sex toy designs.

He groaned as he pulled up his jeans. He wanted nothing more than to get off but he had to listen to Rick like he’d promised, had to do whatever Rick wanted him to. He tied a sweater around his waist to cover his obvious bulge, and it did the trick somewhat. Morty shook his head and wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. This was going to be torture.

Morty walked downstairs slowly, trying to ignore the perfect pressure inside of him with every step,and returned to the table. He couldn’t look at Rick right now, it’d be too much.

He sat down, breathing quick.

“Are you going to finish that, Morty?” Beth asked nonchalantly, glancing at his half-finished plate.

“N-N-No, mom. I’m full.”

“Don’t get up and leave or Dad’ll throw a pity party for the next two hours,” Summer chimed in, texting away. Jerry called her out and soon the typical banter of Morty’s family was background noise.

He took out his phone. As he texted a desperate reply, he didn’t bother with any form of punctuation:

_‘Ok rick i did it and it feels really good and idk how loong i can sit here bcuz this is gonna kill me how long do i have to wait/?’_

Rick read the message and frowned, just to keep himself from smirking. He was so turned on, imagining what Morty was struggling with; that lean body and precious, nervous demeanor, enduring the thick intrusion inside of him. Rick looked up at him. Morty’s eyes were downcast, looking at his plate, at the table, anywhere but at Rick. Rick had to covertly adjust his pants.

Rick texted, ‘ _i want u to tell us a boring story about class today, or about school… anything. just keep talking_.’

Morty couldn’t find a comfortable position in the hard kitchen chair; no matter how he placed his body, he was still achingly aware of how big this stupid thing felt. He read Rick’s message and tensed up. How was he supposed to speak to his family when he was so...distracted?

Morty swallowed and tucked a disheveled curl behind his ear. If that’s what Rick wanted, then that’s what he’d do. He took a breath and focused on contorting his features into their usual, less flustered state.

“H-Hey, u-um,” Morty began. Jerry looked up hopefully at his son’s attempt at communication, and Beth smiled at him expectantly. “I...well, I got an A on my psych midterm. Thought...thought you’d want to-to know.”

Beth smiled proudly and Jerry’s eyes were wide with shock. “You got an A? In a college class?”

“Y-Yeah! I’ve been studying really hard. It-it’s been difficult c-cuz you know, school isn’t usually my thing but--” Morty stopped mid sentence because _holy shit the fucking sextoy was vibrating._ He covered up his squeak with a cough. Beth looked at him strangely and Morty sank back a little in his seat, mentally cursing Rick and trying to slow his breathing. “S-S-Sorry, I have a cold...u-um, so yeah, my professor is a really nice guy and he likes me so h-he’ll help me whenever I…” _Fuck,_ Morty repressed a whimper and squeezed his thighs together. The vibration was hitting that perfect spot, and he was on the verge of losing his mind. “Whenever I...I need.”

Rick swallowed a bite and casually leaned back in his chair. His arms were crossed, one hand concealing the tiny remote that controlled the vibrator inside of Morty. And oh baby, was Morty feeling it. He could see his struggle and it was such a damn good sight.

His eyes narrowed when Morty started to talk about his Psychology professor. Just thinking about Morty spending long hours alone in some douchebag’s office had Rick internally raging. But since when had he ever been the jealous type? Since Morty, it seemed. Still, the self-reflection wasn’t enough to keep him in check.

“S-Sounds like you go a real-URP creep of a professor. He doesn’t try and meet with you late at night, does he?”

Morty’s first instinct was to get defensive at Rick’s unnecessary comment, but his response died in his throat when he took in his grandfather’s expression. He looked...jealous. Agitated. Morty almost whimpered but caught himself just in time; Rick’s jealousy combined with the persistent stimulation of the toy inside of him had him trembling.

“O-Of course not!” Morty began, swallowing thickly. “He’s not creepy, he just wants to help out. I-I-I-I’m pretty sure he’s married. A-Anyway, I’m almost failing math but if I try really hard I think I can--” Morty absolutely fucking lost it when the toy suddenly began vibrating much, _much_ more intensely. He gasped, loudly, and dug his nails into the table cloth. It took every ounce of his self restraint not to cry out and _fuck_ he was going to come if Rick kept his up. Beth seemed concerned, and Morty mumbled out an awkward: “S-Sorry, I’m not feeling well... “ He looked down at his phone and urgently typed out a text to Rick.

‘ _Rick you have to shut that off cuz idk how much more i can take please can i just go upstairs and come’_

He looked up at Rick, pleading with his eyes.

“Do you want to go lie down?” Beth asked Morty.

“Y-Yeah you look pretty shitty, Morty.” Rick said before Morty could speak. His brow was drawn together with false concern. “Go lie down on the couch. I’ll watch TV with you.”

The family, now finished with dinner, got up and began to clean the table. Rick watched out of the corner of his eye as Morty shakily got to his feet, knees pressed together and face flushed. And he couldn’t keep his eyes off him as he watched Morty wobble into the living room in those ridiculously sexy, tight jeans.

“Wait,” Jerry said, “Weren’t we all going to play Yahtzee?”

“Well Morty isn’t feeling well,” Beth said. “And Yahtzee isn’t that f-”

“S-Sounds great, too bad I’ll-URB be missing it. Going to go keep an eye on Sicko over in the livingroom.”

“Yeah I don’t really want to play,” Summer said.

Rick started to disappear, and on his way out he heard Jerry guilt-trip the girls into playing with him. In the living room he found Morty on the couch. Morty moved his legs and Rick sat on the end, Morty’s feet resting on his lap. The TV was tuned into Quick Mysteries.

They weren’t more than fifteen feet from the table at an angle behind them, where the family was starting a game. With the back of the couch in the position that it was in, they wouldn’t be able to see Morty, and they’d only see a little of Rick’s shoulder. And with the TV volume on half way, they had a small, small amount of privacy.

Rick glanced down at Morty and spoke under his breath. “Not feelin’ well, huh?”

“R-Rick?” Morty’s voice cracked and he gripped the couch cushion. His gaze flitted over Rick’s body and his eyes widened when he noticed that the older man was hard. Suddenly, as the toy moved inside of him, he was finding it nearly impossible to focus on anything else. He scooted over and grabbed the hem of Rick’s labcoat pathetically. “Please?” Morty croaked out.

Rick smiled like the Devil, turning to look down at Morty. Despite the tightness in his pants, he sat casually, one arm slung over the back of the couch and his legs crossed. He leaned closer, speaking under his breath.

“Please _what_? Y-You want me to end your torture, Morty? Well I can't. You know why? Because I m-made a promise, Morty. I'm gonna make you cum in those jeans without touching you. Now how about we watch a little TV?”

Rick pointed a remote at the television, but it was not the television’s remote. It was simple and small. And when he pressed the Up arrow, it turned the toy on high.

The noise that left Morty’s mouth was absolutely humiliating, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He had had _no idea_ that something up his ass could feel this fucking good, and the way Rick was talking to him just made matters worse. He had to bite on his own fist to get himself to shut up, and his body moved closer to Rick almost naturally. He shuddered at the scent of Rick’s aftershave and hard liquor. He wanted to say something, to beg, or maybe to voice his concerns that his family might hear; but all he could do was moan pitifully into Rick’s shoulder. Morty was right on the edge (he would have came long ago if he hadn’t been trying so hard to preserve his dignity) and his slim hips stuttered, denim rubbing against his cock and causing a nearly unbearable friction.

“Rick--! I...I…” Morty couldn’t form a coherent sentence, not when he was already so far gone.

“That's it baby,” Rick purred, soaking up the sight of Morty nearly coming undone.

Part of him regretted not taking him upstairs and fucking him silly. Rick was caught up for a moment in the thought of it, holding Morty down by his wrists and sucking bruises into his chest. And the thought of Morty coming, his face perfectly screwed up and his body tightening around Rick’s dick, left him aching unbearably.

But he couldn't do that because he made a promise. It took everything in him not to hold Morty, not to rub his hand up his thigh or run his fingers through his hair. He balled his hands into fists in an effort to resist.

“J-Just rock your hips, Morty. It'll feel good.”

 _He called me baby,_ Morty thought, mind hazy with lust.  He obeyed Rick's instructions immediately, and _fuck_ it did feel good. The hoarseness in Rick's voice, however, is what pushed him over the edge.

Morty gasped and shuddered as his orgasm overtook him. He came hard with Rick's name on his lips as he imagined what it'd feel like if Rick was inside of him instead of the toy, how full he'd feel. Wave after wave of intense pleasure had him whimpering as quietly as he could, and he squirmed with the sheer force of it.

Rick felt like he was losing his mind over the sight of Morty coming in front of him. Morty was biting his lip, his hands trembling as they gripped Rick’s lab coat. He felt a little less than sane as he glanced over his shoulder toward the dining room. The family was engaged in the game, making jokes and laughing. Most importantly, they weren’t looking.

He anxiously turned back to Morty. “M-M-M-Morty, I need you to lean back.”

Although bleary-eyed from the orgasm, Morty managed to follow Rick’s request. He shifted backward, laying on the couch. Rick glanced at the family again, one more time before climbing over Morty. They wouldn’t be able to see either of them once Rick was down.

He shifted, pressing flush against Morty, erection aching against his pants. His knees sunk into the couch between Morty’s legs, and he could feel the heat of Morty’s skin through his skimpy yellow tank top. Rick ground up against him, groaning under the sound of the TV.

“F-Fuck, Morty,” he murmured, fingers lacing through his grandson’s hair. He pulled his head back, desperate to taste his skin. He kissed and sucked, teeth grazing the wet area, careful not to do anything rough enough to leave a mark. He groaned again, grabbing Morty’s thigh as he rocked his hips. God damn it, how had Rick failed to notice how fucking pretty he was?

Morty’s mind was still pleasantly buzzing when Rick asked him to lean back, but he snapped back to reality when Rick's body was suddenly on top of him. Despite coming just moments ago, Morty moaned softly at the feeling of Rick's hardness against him. And _fuck_ , Rick was touching him, actually touching him, and Morty almost couldn't handle it. Every stroke of his long, thin fingers against Morty’s skin seemed to leave a trail of fire in its wake.

Then Rick started kissing his neck, sloppy and desperate, and Morty thought for the billionth time that he must be dreaming. Rick was really, _really_ turned on, and it was because of him. That coupled with the slow, almost rhythmic vibrations of the toy had Morty inwardly cursing his stupid hormones for enabling him to get hard again so quickly. He shuddered, pulling Rick closer and rolling his hips upward in encouragement. Was he going to get to see Rick come? Fuck, he wanted that. He’d spent countless nights imagining this, getting off to this, and his head was spinning with sheer need.

“Rick,” Morty whined as quietly as he could muster, savoring the moment. He lowered his voice even further, cheeks flushing in embarrassment at what he was about to vocalize. “I...I want you to... I want you to f-fuck me.”

Completely caught off guard, Rick couldn’t help picturing it, pounding into Morty’s slick hole until he could feel him clench around his dick.

“Yeah baby I want that too,” Rick growled into Morty’s ear, continuing to rock against him. “And I’m- I-I’m gonna make it so good for you Morty, I’m gonna make you lose your fucking mind-”

But Rick didn’t have time to finish the thought when he was suddenly overwhelmed, the coiled heat in his stomach exploding. He buried his face against Morty’s shoulder, body trembling as he came.

Holy fuck, Rick talking dirty did _things_ to Morty. Rick's words painted a beautiful mental image in his brain and he whimpered pathetically.

Morty’s mouth fell open as he felt Rick come apart on top of him. He hadn’t been mentally prepared for this, for how much it’d turn him on. God, he’d never have to watch porn again after seeing this. Morty imagined what it would feel like to have Rick come inside of him, or even on him, and all he could manage was a weak little moan.

After catching his breath, Rick leaned up, turning to glance toward the dining room. They were still unnoticed. He turned back to Morty... gorgeous, sexy Morty in his yellow tank top and tight jeans. His jeans were now marked by a wet spot from before, as were his own pants. But Morty was still hard, because he was almost fifty years Rick’s junior, and young people tended to bounce back.

Rick smirked, because Morty looked so good with the tight bulge in his jeans. He slid his hand up against it, palming it through the denim. “Hey M-Morty… t-t-think I could get a taste of you?”

Morty squeaked when Rick unexpectedly palmed him through his jeans. He was more than a little embarrassed at how ridiculously quick he’d gotten hard again, but Rick didn’t seem to mind. Morty pushed his hips up into Rick’s hand, eyes fluttering closed at the much needed friction. Rick’s words made him flush impossibly redder, because _holy shit,_ was Rick suggesting what he thought he was suggesting?

“B-b-but,” Morty stammered, chewing on his bottom lip. “Rick, they...they’ll see!”

Rick’s brow pulled together. As much as he wanted to let Morty fuck his face, he couldn’t deny the risk they were already taking. He sat up straight and said, louder than necessary, “Well Morty, I can only take s-s-s-s-so many Quick-URP Mysteries before I want to blow my brains out. I’ll be in the garage if you need me.”

Without looking Morty’s way, he stood up and headed to the garage, hands in his lab coat pockets.

Morty couldn’t help but grin at Rick’s blatantly obvious lie. He wasn’t worried, though, because his parents seemed pretty wrapped up in what they were doing. Morty gave it a couple minutes and then stood up, hoping that no one turned around to look at him because his arousal was painfully obvious.

“Um” Morty said shakily. “I’m gonna--gonna go see if Rick needs any help.”

“Don’t overwork yourself, Morty,” Beth called from the kitchen. “You’re already sick.”

“I-I won't, mom! Promise!”

When he heard the beginnings of Jerry’s protest he practically bolted from the room. Once he reached the garage entrance he entered quietly, closing the door with a click.

“H-Hey, Rick.”

Rick looked up at Morty from where he’d been pacing. He uncrossed his arms and put his hands on his hips, brow drawn down.

It had only taken a few minutes alone, between leaving the living room and Morty joining him in the garage for his nerves to start buzzing frantically. He’d had a moment alone to think clearly, for the haze of lust to clear away enough for him to see.

He looked at Morty, who stood there slouching in the shirt that showed too much chest and the jeans that were clearly uncomfortably tight at the moment. Jesus Christ, did he have no resolve at all? Rick forced himself to look up at Morty’s face.

“Morty, wh-wh-wh-what the fuck are we doing? I wanted to take it slow with you and… w-w-w-well I sure as hell didn’t!”

 _Oh geez,_ Morty thought. He hated how anxious Rick looked, how conflicted. He wanted nothing more than to kiss that expression off of his face. Morty’s jaw set in determination. He looked down coyly, feigning shyness, and shuffled his feet. He bit his lip and met Rick’s eyes with a heated stare.

“But I...I don’t want you to take it slow. I want…” Morty shifted his shoulders slightly, _just_ slightly, so that his tank top fell loosely over one shoulder, exposing his collar bone. “I w-want it now.”

Rick gaped. He shook his head, his stutter growing out of control. “Y-y-y-y-y-y-y-you…. Y-y-y-y-y-you l-l-l-little shit. Y-y-y-y-y-you think I would fall for that move?”

But Morty was closer and he was smiling, lip still caught between his teeth. When in the actual fuck had Morty turned into this… this ballsy little vixen? College? It had to be fucking college. Morty hadn’t bothered to answer his question, and maybe they both knew the answer.

Rick’s hands curled into fists and flexed again. They were close enough for him to feel Morty’s breath against his skin. Glaring fiercely, he slowly put his hands on Morty’s waist. “M-Maybe I would fall for it.” Their foreheads pressed together and he took a breath. Rick didn’t actually believe in Hell, but if he turned out to be wrong, he was going to be in some serious trouble.

Morty beamed with pride when Rick knowingly took the bait. Morty shivered when Rick wrapped his hands around his waist.  He leaned into the touch immediately, almost instinctively, and pushed their bodies flush together.

“Can I k-kiss you, Rick?” Morty asked, voice coming out small and strained with desperation.

In some way Rick was glad that Morty wasn't leaving all the decisions up to him. With something like this, something so fucking earth-shattering, watching Morty coming after what he wanted was both relieving and exhilarating.

Rick found himself glancing down at Morty's lips and how they turned up into a smile. _Goddamn_.

“Y-Y-You can do w-whatever you want, Morty.”

 _Oh._ Morty felt himself grow even harder at Rick's words. Without a moment's hesitation, he placed both of his hands on Rick's stubbly face and pressed their lips together. He was too turned on to do anything but kiss him sloppily, and a small noise left his throat at the feeling.

Rick pressed back into the kiss and God, did it feel right. He swung Morty around and lifted him up onto the work table. He was so beyond waiting. He pulled off Morty’s stupid sexy shirt and shrugged out of his lab coat. He dove forward for another kiss before pulling off his own shirt.

Rick began undoing Morty’s very tight jeans. If there was anything he was good at besides science, it was sex. And the idea of getting to please Morty, of really spoiling him forever, fuck if it didn’t have him going a little crazy.

“Y-Y-You done this before, Morty? Not that I give a shit either way, I just-BURP don’t wanna… I mean, if you have I won’t… or if y-y-you haven’t I’ll try to… uh... it’ll j-j-just be easier if I know.”  

Morty’s hands shook with the sheer desperation he felt when Rick began to take his clothes off. He shamelessly pressed against Rick’s hand as he undid his jeans, and he flushed when Rick asked his question.

“Um…” Morty began, suddenly having a hard time making eye contact with Rick. “I-I...I haven’t gone...you know, a-all the way, but I’ve done some stuff, I-I guess,” Morty mumbled, gaze focused on Rick’s exposed chest. He’d had a few drunk makeout sessions with girls, and he’d given and received a few hand jobs in his first year of college, but that was it. Morty had had countless opportunities to get laid, but he had been too busy pining for his own grandfather to ever be interested in anyone else. He shifted awkwardly; this new angle made Morty very aware of the toy that was still inside of him. Thankfully, it'd stopped vibrating a while ago (Morty wasn't sure how much more he could take).

“So you’ve done ‘some stuff’…” Rick repeated, mulling it over. Morty had explained enough for Rick to deduce that he had not, in fact, taken a dick before. “Well, that’s good,” Rick decided aloud. “I don’t trust those little f-f-fuckboys you go to school with to-URP do it right. They’d probably just… well those kids don’t know their head from their balls, Morty. They’d probably give you a shitty first impression.”

Rick slid Morty’s jeans down his thighs to the floor. He tried not to stare now that Morty was completely bare. They’d seen each other naked before, but it was different when you were suddenly allowed to touch. Rick helped Morty step out of them and climb back onto the table. He leaned over and pulled a small bottle of lube out of one of the drawers.

With a smile Rick said, “I think y-you should be the one to get started on this. Not because I want to watch you finger yourself, but because I _really_ want to watch you finger yourself.”

Morty’s mouth fell open slightly at the husky tone of Rick’s voice and the heat in his gaze. He nodded dumbly, taking the bottle from Rick’s hands. He'd fingered himself to the thought of this scenario more times than he could count, and his entire body felt hot. If he wasn't so turned on, he would've been a lot more shy; but all he could think about right now was Rick fucking him and this would surely speed up the process.

He spread his legs, shuddering at the cool air, and pushed a finger inside of himself. The intrusion was painless since the toy had opened his body up already **.** He made quick work of pulling it out of him, haphazardly tossing it on the table and replacing it with two fingers in one swift motion. Morty’s eyes fluttered closed in pleasure.

“ _Rick,_ ” He whined, crooking his fingers _just_ right. As he grasped the table with his free hand in an attempt to keep from falling off, Morty drove his fingers into himself harder. _God_ , he loved this feeling. His moans increased in volume with every movement of his fingers, and he croaked out a weak: “F-f-fuck” as he added a third. He spread his legs wider, trying to get deeper inside himself.

Rick had thought he was ready, but he absolutely wasn't. Slowly he brought his hands up to Morty's thighs and gripped them as he watched. “Baby… wow...” he murmured. Morty clearly did this often, which was so fucking hot.

Rick couldn't take it anymore. He grabbed Morty's wrist, stopping him. A long string of lube dripped out as Morty pulled his fingers away, eyes questioning. He rested his hands on Morty's rear, using his thumbs to spread him just a little. Rick bit his lip as he looked. Morty's hole was shiny with lube and flushed pink from being played with.

“I gotta…” Rick trailed off. “Y-You gotta let me…”

Rick knelt down on the floor. He leaned in and licked his ass, which was sweet from the flavored lube. “Oh God M-Morty,” he groaned before leaning in again and burying his tongue inside. Morty's ass was so soft and the heat was intense. Rick withdrew his tongue and pressed it in again, starting a slow rhythm.

Morty’s eyes widened and he squeaked, legs tightening around Rick's head almost instinctually. He'd never imagined that Rick would want to do _this_ , but holy shit. Rick's tongue felt so good, and he was clearly very experienced in this department. Morty writhed with every press of Rick's tongue, babbling out nonsense. He was past the point of rational thought. Morty repeated Rick's name like a mantra, and all he could think about was how good he was feeling.

Rick groaned, painfully hard from Morty whimpering his name. It was surreal to hear that familiar voice in such a completely unfamiliar circumstance.

Aside from one or two exceptions, Rick was all about free love and just having a good time with whoever wanted to join in. But now he felt an odd, possessive fury in him, that he had to know that Morty would never again say anyone else's name this way. Only his. Only Rick’s.

With that thought, he was done waiting. Rick stood up again, back protesting as he rose. As he undid his pants and freed himself he asked, “You ready, babe?”

Morty whimpered at the pet name but said nothing at first, too distracted by Rick's cock to reply. He blushed when he realized how obviously he had been staring, but still managed to nod weakly. “Y-yeah,” He said, voice already wrecked. “I-I’ve been...I can't stop thinking a-about it. S-so hurry up,” Morty had never been more ready for anything in his life.

Rick chuckled at his eagerness. But really, he wasn’t any better. He positioned himself and pressed inside, taking a sharp breath as he slid in. He paused about halfway in, watching Morty’s face to see if he was doing alright. And he _was_. His flushed, dick-happy expression alone was almost enough to make Rick pop.

“Y-You like, that, Baby?” He pulled out and pressed in again, not quite all the way. “You-BURP-you want more?”

Morty clawed at nothing and nodded, hard. He opened his mouth to speak, to beg Rick for more, but all that came out was a choked off moan because Rick was pushing in deeper, much too slowly, and Morty could feel every inch of him.

“P-please…” Morty managed, tightening around Rick. “A-as hard as you w-want, _please_.”

Groaning helplessly, Rick’s hands gripped Morty’s thighs. “Y-Y-You’re fucking killing me, Morty…” He shifted, moving to grab Morty’s waist, and thrust into him fully. God, he was so hot inside. And every once in awhile he would tighten up and holy, fucking, shit. Rick pulled out and pumped into him, moving faster until he had a steady rhythm. He couldn’t go full force yet, not if he wanted to last more than a minute.

He still couldn’t get over the fact that Morty had been wanting this, thinking about this. He’d been so oblivious, and now, like the snap of fingers he was completely immersed. He bent forward, panting against Morty’s chest as he continued to thrust. He moved to the left and began to suck one of Morty’s nipples, and used his fingers to play with the other.

Morty was being obscenely loud despite trying his hardest to muffle the noises with his hand. He couldn't help it, not when Rick was fully inside of him. This was all of his wet dreams come to life, and he was already getting close. Morty had never been able to come just from fingering himself, but this? He wasn't sure how much more he could take.

Morty jumped when he felt Rick's mouth on his nipple and arched upward, shivering at the tactile warmth of Rick's tongue. It was almost as though Rick could read his mind, like he knew exactly where to touch and how to make Morty feel good. When Rick's thrusts began to quicken Morty practically screamed, clinging to Rick for dear life. In a daze, Morty thought for a moment that he finally understood why Rick loved sex so much.

Rick raised his head, reaching forward to run his hands through Morty’s soft, damp hair. “God fucking damn it,” he growled, “I wish y-y-y-you could see yourself right now, Morty, all flushed and sweaty and taking my cock like you were made for it.” He tightened his hold on Morty’s hair, not enough to hurt him but enough to get him to open his eyes. “I want you to-BURRP I want you to look at me when you come. Y-You better remember who’s inside you. And I hope you... I hope you like it Morty, because I’m never gonna fucking share you.”

Morty's surroundings disappeared as Rick spoke. Something about his grandfather talking dirty, making those promises of possession, sent him over the edge. He came hard against Rick's abdomen, gasping for breath and fighting the urge to shut his eyes. But Rick wanted him to look at him, so he did; he kept eye contact until he was shaking with the aftershocks and clenching tightly around Rick's cock.

Rick honestly hadn’t thought that Morty would be able to keep his eyes open, as he’d never seen anyone do it before. And the sight of him? Christ, Rick was done. He fucked him hard with a few last thrusts, Morty’s warm body trembling around him. He came, head falling forward against Morty’s chest.

Morty buried his head in the crook of Rick's neck. He sighed contentedly and shifted awkwardly when Rick pulled out. He was messy, and he could feel Rick's come dripping out of him and onto the counter, but he couldn't bring himself to do anything about it. He felt so warm.

“Fffffuck…” Rick groaned. They both took heavy breaths before Rick chuckled. “How the hell did… How did this happen again? Oh right, you-URP y-y-y-y-you sent me a dirty photo that you meant to send to your… to your little buddy at school.”

“Well, I'm r-r-really glad I sent it to-to you instead, R-Rick,” Morty mumbled. He was suddenly very sleepy. He pulled Rick impossibly closer and basked in their closeness for a blissful moment. “Love you,” He whispered without thinking. As soon as he realized what he said, a wave of panic shot through him. “S-Sorry-- Oh geez, I d-d-d-didn’t mean to say that, S-Sorry,” Morty instinctively pulled away. He knew Rick hated sappy shit, especially declarations of love, and Morty had to fight the urge to curl into a ball of shame.

Rick blinked, and then sighed. “Y-Y-Y-You know how much I hate that-BURP sappy shit, Morty. Especially declarations of love. But here’s the thing, Morty. I-I-I don’t think that you ‘didn’t mean it’. I think, Morty I think you’ve been wanting to say it for a long time.”

He reached forward and ran his hand through Morty’s hair, twisting a lock around his finger. Morty’s eyes were wide in that way that he looked sometimes. It was the look you’d see on someone standing on a frozen lake, watching the cracks form beneath their feet.

“Declarations of love are shit because eighty percent of the people who make them don’t even know what they’re saying. But if you have… if you’ve been meaning to say it for a while, then m-maybe you’re part of the twenty percent who are actually _honest,_ sappy fucks.” Rick leaned in, kissing Morty’s neck because, shit, he was allowed to. “I-I-I-I’m not one of those kinds of people, but it’s not like…” he seemed uncomfortable suddenly. “I’m not gonna mind if you want to say it.”

 _He's not leaving,_ Morty thought. _He's still here._ Suddenly Morty was smiling stupidly, all traces of fear gone from his features. The gentleness of Rick’s lips against his neck served as a sedative, immediately quelling Morty’s anxiety. The fact that Rick was okay with this, was okay with Morty loving him, was more than he could have ever asked for. His post-orgasmic giddiness returned in full force and he stared up at Rick like he was the most incredible thing he’d ever seen. “I...I have. Been w-wanting to say it f-f-for a while, I mean,” He said softly, breathing evening out. “W-W-We should probably move soon, huh, R-Rick?”

Rick looked around, becoming aware of his surroundings again. “Yeah i-i-i-it’d be pretty bad if the fam finished Yahtzee and found us. I mean, I locked the-BURP door but your dad’s got a spare key I haven’t been able to steal back.”

Looking down at the cum on his stomach, Rick went to a drawer and pulled out a pair of rags. He passed one to Morty and used the other to clean himself. Rick looked around for his pants and pulled them up, glancing at Morty as he buttoned them. Morty finished dressing, and was wiping the counter.  

He didn’t know what caused the thought to enter his mind, but God, did he love that kid. Anyone could say that Rick Sanchez didn’t give a rat’s ass about anything, and he would tell them that they were right. But that would be a lie, because as much as he would deny it, he loved his family. He loved his daughter, and he loved his grandkids.

He knew things were getting complicated with the two of them. Morty was _in love_ with him. Maybe Rick didn’t do too well at recognizing how he felt, but he had always known when he wanted something. As screwed up as this whole thing was, he wanted it to continue. He wanted Morty.

Morty had finished cleaning up and he turned around expectantly. Rick said nothing, however; he was staring at Morty with an impossibly neutral expression. Morty was used to this look, and he was used to pretending not to notice it, but this time his curiosity got the better of him.

“W-W-What’re you looking at, Rick?” Morty asked, voice small.

Rick made himself smirk. “Not a thing, Morty. Just thinking about how wrecked you look. I-I-I was going to ask if you wanted to go get a milkshake, but I don't know if you would make the trip.”

Morty felt blood rush to his cheeks and he adjusted his shirt which he'd thrown back on haphazardly. “I-I-I can make the trip!” He said hopefully, trying and failing to smooth down his uncharacteristically messy hair. He wobbled on his feet for a moment but recovered quickly, gripping the counter in what he hoped would appear to be a casual movement. A milkshake sounded good, but another opportunity to hang out with Rick in a setting where they weren't facing their impending doom sounded even better.

Xxx

Shoney’s was packed. It looked like some kind of medium-sized comic convention was happening in town, and they’d basically all chosen to get a cheap meal at Shoney’s. Rick almost decided to walk out, but the promise of a delicious frozen treat kept them waiting. When they finally got a table, they could barely hear each other.

“Hello and welcome to Shoney’s!” The waitress said, talking loudly over the crowd. “What can I get you two to drink?”

Morty ordered his milkshake first, and then Rick said, “I’ll take a chocolate shake and a big cup of This is Bullshit.”

“I agree!” The waitress said cheerfully. “I’ll have those right out for you both!”

The waitress left and Rick grimaced as a dozen sweaty-smelling power rangers stuffed themselves into the booth behind him. The biggest one laughed like a bear.

He and Morty exchanged annoyed looks, and Rick pulled out his phone and shot him a text.

‘ _theres a reason there arent any pink or yellow rangers with that group…_ ’

Morty giggled when he saw Rick texting him. He read it immediately and kicked Rick's foot under the table affectionately.

' _what a bunch of nerds right Rick?? these milkshakes better be good_ ’

Rick rolled his eyes and text-replied, ‘ _dont be a dipshit mort/y OF COURSE theyre gonna b good //we’re in SHONEYS…….!_ ’

Morty scowled at Rick and began typing a rapid response. The power rangers were only increasing in volume, and Morty overheard the most obnoxious of the bunch boasting about a costume contest.

‘ _Jeez just trying to make conversation...u suck_ ’

Rick stared at the message, thinking about how Morty was just walking right into this one. He texted, ‘ _U bet I suck like a pro, morty.. <3 _’

Morty's eyes widened when he read Rick's text. He knew it was probably a joke, just Rick being Rick, but that fact didn't take away from how hot the mental image was. Morty looked down at his phone screen, determined. Two could play at this game.  
  
' _u like it when I eat messy right?? Maybe I'll spill my milkshake and let u lick it off me ;)_ '  
  
Morty waited for a moment and crossed his arms, face smug. But when Rick looked at him expectantly, seemingly waiting for a text, Morty's brow creased in confusion. He had full bars, so the reception was fine. _Maybe I didn't push send?_ He thought, looking down at his phone.

Morty blinked as he stared at his screen. His stomach plummeted.

He had sent the text to Remi.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
